Captain Rex and the Last Cheese Pretzel
by Queen
Summary: A totally true story involving Rex, cheese, and delicious pastries. Co-written by Queen, LongLiveTheClones, and laloga!
1. Part One: Discovery

_Captain Rex and the Last Cheese Pretzel_

* * *

Part One: Discovery

_(by Queen)_

* * *

His stomach growled.

It was getting close to the end of his shift. He'd head back to the temporary barracks he and the rest of the 501st were assigned upon hitting dirtside on Corellia, and that meant he could fill his stomach with as much food from the mess as he wanted. Forty-five more minutes. Forty-five minutes of waiting in the late afternoon sunshine pouring down on Coronet City, where no one was shooting at him and he wasn't shooting at anyone. It was far from the most harrowing experience Rex had ever had, waiting a measly forty-five minutes to get off duty and return to the barracks and all the food they promised.

The problem was, everyone around him was _eating_.

Tomorrow marked the first day of the Intergalactic Amity Conference, and the broad sweep of the convention center's plaza sprawled out before him. At the opposing end of the convention center's drive towered the convention center itself; banners in bright colors of red and blue were being draped over the entranceway by droids buzzing around on repulsors, the fabric of each banner rippling as it rolled down the windows and caught in the crisp breeze. The buildings of the complex stabbed upward into the sky, and even with the bright light of the late afternoon, the center seemed to glow from all the lights lit within. Somewhere, from too high and too awkward an angle for Rex to see from so far away and from the ground, a fountain burbled a heavy spray of water into the air before it tumbled down the side of the building and into one of the gardens below, the droplets of water catching the sunlight and glittering on their way down.

Speeders zipped around the curve of the drive's land-based roundabout, winking momentarily out of sight as they passed under pedestrian walkways that arched over the road. They darted off on different routes to take them further into the maze of buildings that made up the chain of massive buildings that constituted the whole of the convention complex. Civilians from nearby businesses and hotels were crisscrossing the plaza in elaborate clothes and well-coiffed hair, buying trinkets from kiosks and food from vendors, before moving off the duracrete pavement and onto the well-manicured lawns and eventually into the lush gardens that made the sprawling center into a verdant oasis rather than a coolly shining structure of durasteel.

The air smelled like hot duracrete, plants – and food. Some of the kiosks were selling tacky trinkets with "CORONET CITY" written on them in big letters, but mostly there were food carts, selling everything from fried noodles to candied fruits dipped in sweet sauce and some sort of fried dough cake with a month's worth of sugar rations poured on top of it. The smells of barbecued meats, grilled vegetables and fried pastries caught on the breeze and wound their way straight to him.

_I am not going to be defeated by an empty stomach_, he thought irritably. _I've been hungry before_. _Forty-two minutes_.

If he was wearing his helmet, this wouldn't be quite so torturous. The bucket's filters couldn't completely scrub smells from the air, but at least it would have given him some sort of barrier between his nose and the pervasive deliciousness the food carts were emanating. He'd also be able to stand at attention and be able to zoom in on as many of the vendors as he wanted without anyone noticing his interest in their food. But he wasn't wearing his helmet, nor was he wearing his usual armor. Rex was stuck stiffly trying to "act casual" in civilian clothes as he surveyed the crowd and the nearby areas.

The 238th Intergalactic Amity Conference had enough security to keep a small planet on lockdown – and though Corellia wasn't exactly small, the place was crawling with CorSec agents, most of them in uniform, though by the way some of the "civvies" walked and looked around, there were a few plainclothes officers trying to blend in just as he was. Due to the large presence of attendees from Republic worlds, a contingent from the 501st was deployed to provide backup to CorSec.

Rex, along with a few other clones, Commander Tano and General Skywalker, were also in the mix, getting their own read on the gathering. So far, CorSec didn't seem to need any help keeping a lid on any dangerous activities, which left Rex feeling oddly bored.

He still wished he had his armor. But the goal for the day was to try blending in. He was probably doing a worse job of it than the more obvious plainclothes CorSec agents. He shuffled a few steps to the right, trying to look like he was following the path of cooling shade provided by the trees that hemmed in the duracrete plaza.

His stomach growled again and he resisted a wince. _Forty minutes. I can last forty_ – his thought was interrupted by a twisting in his gut rapidly followed by a disturbingly noisy gurgling that quickly dropped into a snarl that sounded a bit like a cranky rancor's warning growl, then up into a weirdly pitched moaning.

When the gurgling finally subsided, he managed a wan smile that faded into a grimace_. Maybe it's time to accept my limitations. This _is_ why the General gave me some credits…._

The Corellian credit chip had been burning a hole in his pocket all day. Surely there would be enough money on the chip to buy something from one of the vendors? Just enough to keep his stomach from continuing its' rancor imitation.

The fact that the food smelled so good had nothing to do with his decision. It was entirely to stop the noise.

A knot of civilians in what appeared to be tourist clothing meandered their way past him, wafting the smell of baked pastries and…cheese? His stomach began to burble again and he clamped down on it with his abdominal muscles. No more rancor noises. A quick scan of the plaza and estimation of the tourists' trajectory showed they'd come from a vendor with a large, flashing holographic sign overhead that read "KOR VELLA TWISTS" with a multicolored subscript that cheerfully added "They're Delicious!"

There was probably no nutritional value in such food, but it didn't look like any of the vendors were selling anything particularly healthful. _Well, if I'm going to try something, I might as well try something I can't get back at barracks…_.

Tracking back along the tourists' trajectory, he wound his way through the crowd over towards the KOR VELLA TWISTS cart and stepped into line.

Then he tilted to the side to peer forward. There was a harried looking Bith at the front of the line, ordering his pastry while trying to adjust some of the elaborate clothing and layers of expensive jewelry draped around his neck. The vendor, an older Corellian man, handed him his pastry, enveloped in wax paper, and the Bith hurried off, stuffing the pastry into his mouth as he scurried back towards the convention center.

The line moved forward a step. There was a grey haired human woman in front of him in a flowing business suit, tapping her chin as she looked at the holographic menu glowing off to the side of the cart, and Rex frowned. He had no idea what a KOR VELLA TWIST actually was, beyond that it seemed to be a pastry of some kind. Hopefully they tasted as good as they smelled, whatever they were.

The grey haired woman sighed, and, since she was at a bit of an angle, Rex could see her nod once and smile slightly to herself, as though she'd come to a decision. Giving the menu a glance, Rex shifted from foot to foot, tightening his gut to keep it from making any further noises. The menu was short, and featured pictures of the KOR VELLA TWISTS, which were sort of loopy pastry things. Apparently his choices were:

ORIGINAL TWIST!

CREAMY TWIST!

SPICY TWIST!

BLUE TWIST!

CHEDDAR TWIST!

PIZZA TWIST!

NACHO TWIST!

The line shuffled forward another step, and a Nautolan strolled away into the crowd, tearing part of his KOR VELLA TWIST off and stuffing it into his mouth. Rex frowned again at the menu. There were no descriptions of what some of the twists were – BLUE TWIST? Was the pastry blue? Did the CREAMY TWIST have cream on it? Apparently the food was well enough known locally that they needed no description.

The vendor handed over a twist to the human man at the front of the line, who stuffed a corner of it in his mouth and hurried off, his hands full of a load of flimsiwork and a rather intimidating briefcase. The line shuffled forward again. The grey haired human woman was at the front, and he was next, still with no idea of what he was going to be eating, besides some sort of pastry.

The grey haired woman must have been a regular, because the vendor grinned and greeted her cheerfully. "Meia! Good to see you. What'll it be today?"

It wasn't really eavesdropping if they were both in front of him and talking loudly, was it? Rex looked fixedly at the menu, but tuned in to the conversation. Meia laughed lightly, waved a hand and said, "You too, San. Finally got out of the office. I'll have an original, and make it sunny."

The vendor chuckled, "You got it," and, a moment later, produced a KOR VELLA TWIST that had been drenched in some sort of oozing yellow liquid and wrapped in wax paper. Meia handed over a credit chip, San-the-vendor scanned it and handed it back to her, and she headed off with a smile and a wave.

His turn. Rex swiveled back to the San-the-vendor and shuffled forward a step, trying not to stare at the menu too much. He was the Captain of the 501st. He shouldn't be gawping like a tourist at a menu.

"What can I get for you?" San said, sounding friendly and leaning forward against his cart, one arm up on the elevated, glass portion that held the KOR VELLA TWISTS on a spiked spindle.

Rex shot another glance at the menu. Blue? Creamy? Nacho? The descriptions meant nothing to him.

_When in doubt, imitate a local_. Rex straightened himself up, threw his shoulders back and said, clearly, "An original. And make it sunny."

One of San-the-vendor's eyebrows lifted, and a small smile quirked up one corner of his lips. But he eased back a bit, nodded once, pulled a warm KOR VELLA TWIST out of the glass case with a bit of wax paper, then used a pump attached to the cart to pour the yellow ooze on top of it – just enough to coat the pastry, but not enough to overflow the paper.

"Three cred," San said, and Rex handed over his credit chip to be scanned. A moment later, the credit chip was back in his pocket and the warm KOR VELLA TWIST was in his hand, and it was his turn to edge out of line.

He couldn't stand here, just off to the side of the cart to eat – none of the locals were doing that. So he maneuvered his way through the crowd until he reached his post, then backed up a few steps out of the plaza and onto the lawn, taking advantage of the shade the trees provided.

It was gooey. The goo was definitely a sunny-yellow, and somewhere underneath the goo was the pastry. The goo was, presumably, some sort of cheese. It smelled like cheese at least.

_The local food is weird_.

His stomach burbled, then groaned, apparently uncaring of the appearance of the food in hand. Well, he'd eaten weirder looking things in the 501st, and the cheese coated pastry couldn't be worse than field rations, since it seemed so popular. No one lined up for field rations unless they didn't have anything else to eat, much less civvies.

Rex braced himself, took a breath, opened his mouth, and bit into the KOR VELLA TWIST.

It was warm. It was cheesy. It was doughy. It was soft on the inside, and slightly crusty on the outside. Instead of sweet, it was savory, with what tasted like bits of crunchy salt under the ocean of cheesy goodness. The cheese was sharp, albeit a little overly processed, and it contrasted nicely to the mildness of the baked dough.

It was the best tasting thing he'd ever had, and he was blinking down at a piece of empty, crumpled wax paper before he realized he had eaten it all.

_The local food is weird. But strangely…delicious_.

His stomach agreed with a long, low moan. Rex frowned down at the empty wax paper, then a little at his stomach, then at the paper again. He really didn't need a second. Surely a single KOR VELLA TWIST would be sufficient to tide him over until he got back to barracks? It was only thirty minutes now, according to his chrono.

He really didn't need another cheese covered pastry. He didn't.

But he had one anyway.

As it turned out, ORIGINAL TWISTS! Could be covered in cheese or eaten plain, and there were indeed bits of crunchy salt sprinkled on top of the pastry.

CREAMY TWISTS! Were intriguing – instead of having cheese poured on top of the pastry, they were instead stuffed with a white, cream cheese that was less sharp than the yellow ocean of goo that could be placed on the ORIGINAL TWISTS.

SPICY TWISTS! Were ORIGINAL TWISTS that had the ocean of yellow cheese on them, but with sliced peppers dotting the cheesy sea like little green rafts, disturbingly capable of burning his tongue and making his eyes water.

BLUE TWISTS! Were in fact not blue, but filled with a mild, creamy blue cheese made of blue milk (or so San-the-vendor said – the man knew his cheese twists) and were very nice to have after eating a SPICY TWIST.

CHEDDAR TWISTS! Were very much like ORIGINAL TWISTS with cheese on top, except the cheese was on the INSIDE instead of outside. (San-the-vendor recommended getting the CHEDDAR TWIST with cheese on top. CHEDDAR TWISTS with cheese were also very tasty. Rex appreciated the recommendation.)

PIZZA TWISTS! Were apparently the marriage of KOR VELLA TWISTS with another local specialty of some kind. PIZZA TWISTS were also stuffed inside, with a tart sauce made of tomatoes and a pale white stringy cheese that he had to pinch off from his mouth, because it dangled.

NACHO TWISTS! Were less spicy than the SPICY TWISTS but the cheese that ringed the interior of the dough was a lot sharper and hotter than the CHEDDAR TWISTS. Though it had a spicy kick to it, it didn't make his eyes water. The NACHO TWIST came with a dollop of cheese on top with some sort of sour cream and a single hot pepper slice. (The perfect balance between the ORIGINAL TWIST and the SPICY TWIST according to San-the-vendor.)

Rex's stomach burbled again, though this time, not in complaint, but happiness. It was full of warm, cheesy, doughy goodness. Corellians made surprisingly tasty food.

The sound of his name pulled him from his musings over whether he had enough time for one more KOR VELLA TWISTS run or not. "Rex!"

Apparently, he did not have time to go ask San-the-vendor if he could have one last twist with a little bit of everything on it. Commander Tano was weaving her way through the crowd, smiling, one hand up in the air and waving at him.

He held up a hand and waved back, stepping back a little into a more out-of-the-way area beside one of the trees. She reached him a moment later, her brows lifted and her head tilted to the side as she grinned.

"Well, I was going to ask you if you wanted to get some dinner with Master Skywalker and me, but it looks like you ate."

As far as Rex knew, Jedi didn't have a way of sensing people's eating habits, so he just blinked at her once and said, questioningly, "Sir?"

Ahsoka laughed and shook her head, glancing down at his hand that still gripped the most recent cheese coated wrapper, to out over the plaza and the vendors. She looked vaguely thoughtful for a moment then smiled again. "The pretzels?"

Rex frowned at the unfamiliar word. "Pretzels?"

Ahsoka pointed out over the plaza at the KOR VELLA TWISTS stand, where San was doling out another cheese flavored twist of tastiness. "Yeah. Twists. Pretzels. Same thing. Are they any good?"

Rex lifted his brows. Good? The most bizarrely delicious combination of baked dough and processed cheese with salt? He nodded once, gravely. "I like the cheese ones, sir."

Ahsoka laughed again, harder, covering her mouth with a hand. "I can see that, Rex."

At his puzzled look, she made a gesture at his face, and he tentatively rubbed a hand across his chin. Then across his cheek. And his mouth. Yellowy goo came off on his fingers. _I've got cheese smears on my face in front of the Commander. Wonderful_.

Rex cleared his throat, stiffening, and Ahsoka laughed again, shaking her head. "Come on Rex. You really should eat something besides cheese pretzels today. Master and I found a diner that sells something called shawarma."

Of course he should. It wasn't as though cheese pretzels made an appropriate diet for a clone trooper. "Yes, sir."

And a moment later, they began to wander their way back across the crowded plaza towards General Skywalker and what Rex could only assume would be a more healthful dinner than cheese pretzels.

* * *

Unfortunately, it was the cheese pretzels he couldn't stop thinking about the rest of the conference….

* * *

This fic-in-three-parts is the very silly result of attending this year's _Star Wars Celebration VI_ in Orlando. There was a panel called _The Vocal Stars of Star Wars_, featuring Dee Bradley Baker (Captain Rex and the clones), Ashley Eckstein (Ahsoka Tano), Tom Kane (Yoda), Matt Lanter (Anakin Skywalker) and James Arnold Taylor (Obi-Wan Kenobi).

James Arnold Taylor wrote a mini-script for all the voice actors to read, about their characters landing in Orlando during the convention and experiencing all the silliness (and awesomeness) of a _Star Wars_ convention. During the reading, it was revealed that Rex loves cheese pretzels.

So, of course, laloga, LongLiveTheClones, and myself decided that Rex loving cheese pretzels was now canon (Dee Bradley Baker read it out loud! In Rex's voice!) and it needed an accompanying story.

And so we present to you this very silly, very special fic about Rex and his love of cheese pretzels.

(Special thanks go out to the guy cosplaying Rex at the con, who was kind enough to pose for us with a cheese pretzel.)

~Queen


	2. Part Two: Intervention

_Captain Rex and the Last Cheese Pretzel_

* * *

Part Two: Intervention

(_by LongLiveTheClones_)

* * *

The next morning, Ahsoka and General Skywalker dropped Rex off at his assigned post. The shawarma had been pleasantly filling, even if it was much spicier than the usual GAR fare. Seeing how much Rex had enjoyed the diner food, the two Jedi offered to take the Captain out for breakfast the following morning. After two helpings of Panna cakes, sides of Nilluk strip, and finishing off the remainder off Ahsoka's Ho'Din veggie omelet, Rex was full.

Nope. He wouldn't need any Kor Vella twists today.

Or, what had the vendor called them? Pretzels.

A breeze wafted across the plaza.

Even through the filters of his helmet, Rex's highly-attuned clone senses could detect crisp baked dough, tangy sea-salt and…

No!

He set the filters in his helmet to maximum and decided to do a walk of the plaza. If his current route took him as far away from the Kor Vella twist vendor as possible, it was simply a coincidence. Rex could hear a slight jingle in his belt pouch.

Before the two Jedi had left, Ahsoka had elbowed her Master.

"What is it, Snips?"

Ahsoka made a head gesture, and raised up her eyebrow toward Rex.

"Snips, we're Jedi," her Master said with exasperation. "You know, you could try communicating telepathically like rather than jabbing me in the ribs." He shook his head, but then gave a slightly bemused smile and reached into the Jedi pouch slung low on his slender hips. He dug out a handful of credit chips and held them out to the 501st Captain.

Rex looked at them in surprise, not taking them.

"Take them, Rex," Anakin insisted, with an impatient movement of his hand. The credits jingled slightly at the movement.

"But, I still have a few leftover from yesterday. I didn't spend them _all_, sir," the 501st Captain objected.

"Rex, just take them. That's an order," the Jedi grabbed up the Captain's hand and dumped the credits into them. "Ahsoka insists you might need them. Just in case."

The Captain cocked his head to the side, and opened his mouth to object again.

"To blend in, Rex," Ahsoka said, with a warm smile, "amongst the civilian population."

Rex nodded and his fingers closed around the credits. He slid them into his belt pouch, adding them to the others he still had left over from the day before.

As he walked along the plaza, sweeping the perimeter with a practiced eye, he tried not to calculate how many of the baked dough treats he could buy with his current funds. General Skywalker had been very generous in supplying him with credits. It was more disposable income than he'd ever access to before on any mission.

But, Commander Tano said it was important that he blend in with civilian population…

So, this was all just part of following orders, right?

Before he realized where he was walking, he had turned and found his steps turning back toward the Kor Vella Twists vendor.

Since Rex prided himself on his efficiency, he decided it just wouldn't do for him to continually make trips back and forth to the cart all day. It was still early, and he was pleased to see that not only wasn't there a line but the vendor had a generous selection of the baked treats.

"What will it be?"

The 501st Captain quickly scanned his eyes along the list of offerings, and then nodded with satisfaction.

"Just make it one of each."

And that was why he was such a good command clone. Decisions came easily to him.

* * *

Rex wasn't sure what happened to his kama. A few days into the conference, he couldn't get the kriffin' thing strapped on properly. He stood there in the barracks staring at the fastener, wondering what was wrong with it. He examined it carefully, zooming in on it with extra-high detail using his HUD. He could see no flaws in the fastening device.

"Is there a problem?"

He looked over and saw Fives leaning against his bunk, watching him with an expression of amusement on his face.

Rex ignored the ARC, and swung the kama around his hips again. When the fastener once again refused to close, he let out a long profuse string of Mando'a.

Fives doubled over in laughter.

"Fives!" the 501st Captain's held a sharp bark of reprimand, but also reflected his exasperation with the situation.

The ARC put up his hands in surrender. Then, he came forward and stood behind the Captain. "Want help?"

Rex opened his mouth to object, but then scowled and nodded. Fives was the only other person in the barracks who wore a kama.

The ARC's hands slipped deftly around Rex's hips. He tugged at the fastening, and then grunted.

"Suck it in!"

"I am sucking it in!" Rex objected.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely sure," the Captain said, taking an extra deep breath and then inhaling as far as he could.

"It's no good," Fives said, emerging from behind Rex with the kama in hand. "We'll have to expand this out."

"What?!" Rex stared down at the kama as if it had suddenly turned into a new Separatist energy weapon.

"I'm telling you that this kama doesn't fit you anymore, Rex."

"That's… impossible."

"You want to try mine on?" Fives reached for the fastening on his hips, and began removing his own kama. Rex put a hand on top of Fives' hips, stilling his motions.

"No… uh… that won't be necessary," Rex said, "I'll… uh… make the necessary adjustments." He shook his head and scowled.

Fives peered at him, "Need help?"

"No," Rex shook his head, "go." He pointed the door of the barracks, indicating that the ARC should leave.

"You sure?"

"Fives!"

* * *

It wasn't a problem getting the kama modified. Rex thought he just might have a talent with stitchery. He stared into the mirror of the refresher, admiring the way his kama once again swished back and forth on his hips.

No problem.

Now, on to the training room….

They were scheduled for training drills all day today, and Cody's men had been assigned the duties of guarding the conference.

It was going to be a _good _day.

Rex was looking forward to a day of training with his men. The task of guarding the conference was simple enough, but being around civilians was always a bit unsettling.

He headed into the largest room at _the Resolute_ and even though he was early, Rex was pleased to see that many of his men had already assembled. He was greeted with immediate respectful salutes.

After all that time around civilians, it felt nice to be back in his familiar routine. Within minutes, all of his men had assembled.

Rex decided to start things off with a training run. As was his usual habit, he liked to think and run. He led the men from up front, finalizing his plan for the rest of the day as they circled the training area.

Yes, the standard 25 laps should do. Well, unless the men were slacking, then he'd tack on some extra laps, of course. After laps, then, we'll launch into a standard firing drill for-

_Gah! _Rex suddenly collapsed, as his insides viciously seized up.

"Captain!" Fives was the closest to him, and was instantly by his side.

"Cramp," Rex moaned out pitifully, before the spasms in his chest making speaking impossible and he simply collapsed to the ground with a clatter of plastoid.

"KIX!" Fives bellowed.

"Right here!" the medic pushed through the others, and suddenly appeared by Rex's side, "what happened?"

"He said he got a cramp."

Rex stared up at the two, thinking that when they put it that way it just sounded stupid.

"A cramp?" There was surprise in the medic's tone, but he nodded solemnly and began slipping off Rex's chest plate. As he palpated the prone Captain's cramped stomach, Kix's brow creased in surprise. "Huh... well, that's... ah... new."

He grabbed a syringe out of the medpack on his belt, and efficiently ripped open Rex's bodysuit so he could jab in the needle. But, as he did so, the medic was careful to shield Rex's not-quite-slender stomach from the view of the others. Within seconds, the shot took effect and the Captain visibly relaxed.

"Better?" the medic asked, tugging everything back into place, giving Rex a hand up.

"Yeah, thanks, Kix," Rex muttered as he regained his feet. He looked around, and immediately noticed that all of his men were just milling about, watching the whole mini-drama play out with great interest.

"Fives!" Rex yelled, indicating the lingering troopers with a brusque gesture.

"Come on! Move it! We still have 13 laps to go!" The ARC immediately took off, setting a fast pace and led the troopers in formation around the training room.

"Why don't you walk it off a bit?" Kix suggested. He nodded his head, and together the two clones headed off in the opposite direction as the rest, affording them a bit of privacy.

They walked in silence for a moment, before Kix commented, "So, uh, 12 laps-"

"Kix," Rex's voice held a growl of warning.

The medic refused to be bowed, "That's barely 10 kilometers," the medic said. "Since when can _you_only do 10k in full armor? That's just like a little warm-up before caf for you." Concern was clearly evident in his voice.

"I had a _cramp_," the Captain said, defensively. He could tell the medic was about to say more on the subject. "Look Kix, I have a lot to do here. I need to finish planning the rest of the daily drills."

Kix could tell he was being dismissed. He shook his head, and jogged away, but cast a worried look back at the Captain as he did.

* * *

The next day, Fives, Kix and Jesse were assigned to work the plaza, along with Rex, and a contingent from the 212th. It was the busiest day of the conference, and the Republic was not willing to take any chances with security.

Rex was not willing to take any chances with hunger pains.

So, he ate any extra large breakfast before leaving _the Resolute. _He noted Kix and Fives giving him questioning looks as he loaded up his plate… the third time. Gah. They'd understand once _they_ were out there walking the plaza all day.

He managed to keep completely busy throughout the morning coordinating security with all of the other clones assigned to the plaza. He made it all the way to mid-afternoon before his stomach began its traitorous routine.

Rex did his best to tune out the cacophony from his abdomen. But, it seemed the more he ignored the rumbling roar, the worst it became.

_Kriff. If this continues, I'm going to compromise security._

He considered simply digging out a ration cube from the supply on his belt pack, but then remembered Commander Tano's orders about "blending in."

Civilians don't eat ration cubes.

He would be directly disobeying a direct order.

The commander would be so disappointed in him.

And, surely, the General, too. Right?

Very quickly, he found his steps adjusting themselves so that on his next security sweep he would be walk right next to the Kor Vella Twists' vendor.

_Kriff. The line was tremendous. Didn't the shabla' civilians have anything better to do with their time than stand around and eat these pretzels?_

Rex began pacing, making short laps back and near the area of the cart. Gah. He could feel that his strides were quick and edgy, as he waited for the line to clear.

_Move faster, you inefficient civilians._

_Would it be out of line to shoot a few of the civilians on the line in order to…_

_No, no, that was just the hunger talking. _

Finally! There was a short gap in the line. Rex saw his opening and prepared to dive in, just as a Togorian stepped in as well. They crashed into each other, and the 501st Captain felt the full impact of smacking into 3.0 meters of warrior feline. The Togorian blinked in surprise, then reached out a large clawed hand toward Rex.

Rex went for his blaster.

"Rex! Stand down!" he heard Fives' voice in his comm. "He's just reaching out to help you up."

The Captain immediately let his blaster hand casually slide back toward his side. He instead reached out and accepted the huge clawed hand that had been offered to him.

"My humblest apologies," the Togorian said, in heavily accented Basic, "I did not see you. Please accept my forgiveness by allowing me to purchase you the Kor Vella pastry of your choice… Or, may hap I could be acquiring you two of these twists?"

_Well, I usually have seven_…

But, in the interests of intergalactic diplomacy, he bowed his head graciously like he'd seen the Jedi do on many an occasion, "Uh… yes, alright, two. Thank you. Much appreciated."

* * *

Rex could not believe this was happening.

Ambushed by his own men.

And, Cody, too….

It had all started innocently enough…

He'd just finished his most recent shift and was enjoying a small snack on the shuttle back to _the Resolute_. There was a full hour between the end of his shift and dinner, so naturally he'd purchased some minor requisitions to fill the gap. He'd gotten his usual spread of Kor Vella twists, 'the mighty seven' as he'd come to think of them. Then, he took them to his favorite seat on the shuttle, where he ate them in dignified silence.

Yes, alright, he did briefly consider giving some to Fives. The ARC kept _staring_at him. But, Fives was so good at procurement. If he'd wanted some of the twists, he would've gotten some for himself. As far as the others, well, it was only an hour before dinner. He didn't want to spoil their appetite. What kind of Captain would that make him?

He finished off the last pretzel, and frowned as he noticed the cheese sauce had gummed up his glove. He scrubbed it against his thigh plate, and then noticed he now had a long yellow streak on his thigh plate.

_Huh. Better clean that later. Along with my gloves. Smells… cheesy.  
_

He removed his helmet, so he could inhale the processed aroma, careful not to spread the smear onto his headgear.

_Mmmm…. processed cheese._

He looked up and noticed Fives was still staring at him.

"Is there a problem, Fives?"

Fives scowled, and looked away. He turned his attention out the window, and pretended to take great interest in watching the docking procedures of the ship.

* * *

"What's this?"

The Captain stared around the barracks and noticed they were completely empty except for Fives, Jesse, Kix, and Cody. Normally, at this hour, troopers would be lingering about in their bunks, enjoying a bit of precious free-time between the end of the workday and the evening meal. But, the large sleeping room was suspiciously empty. The Captain stared about at the uncharacteristic change, and the hackles on the back of his neck instantly went up in alarm.

"It's an intervention, Rex."

The Captain whirled around at the deep voice that confronted him from the doorway. He stared, open-mouthed at the commander of the 212th Attack Battalion.

"A what?!" his brain tried to process the words that he'd just heard. But, since his body was digesting gluten and processed blue-milk, it was a bit difficult to focus.

He'd been planning on taking a small nap before dinner, and now... this.

"Your men came to me with some concerns," Cody said in his no-nonsense tone, "I am here to address them."

Rex stared at Fives, Jesse and Kix. Fives stared back unrepentant. Kix flushed a bit guiltily. Jesse took a deep breath and set his jaw in a determined line.

The 501st Captain folded his arms across his chest, thoroughly annoyed. He realized that there was now likely no chance of getting a good nap in before dinner. "Alright, fine, then. What _concerns_ are we talking about?"

Kix gave a nervous glance back at the others, both of whom bolstered him with reassuring looks. He cleared his throat, and then stepped forward toward Rex, "We're concerned, Captain, that you are in…. less than optimal condition."

"What?!" Rex startled, as if he'd been struck.

"Kix is right," Fives said firmly, "due to your _addiction_. We've _all_noticed it."

"To the Kor Vella twists," Jesse clarified, backing up his brothers.

Rex stared at the group in front of him, feeling his ire rise, "There is _no_problem." He clenched his fist angrily, and then felt his glove sticking due to the cheese sauce. He stared down at it, and then quickly tucked his hand behind his back. He looked up, and met the eyes of the others. They were all staring at where his gloved hand had just disappeared, having seen the cheese.

Cody pointed to Rex's thigh plate, and was about to make a comment about the long yellow smear, when their meeting was interrupted by General Skywalker's voice.

"Rex?" the call came in over Rex's commlink.

"Yes, General?" he answered the call enthusiastically, avoiding meeting the eyes of the others. What he would normally view as a somewhat aggravating interruption on his free time now came as a huge relief.

"Report to the briefing room. I need to discuss security arrangements for the conference tomorrow."

"Right away, General." Rex gave Cody a respectable nod, and gave the others a _look_, before retreating from the room as quickly as he could. Along the way, he grabbed a quick cleaning cloth from his belt pouch, and scrubbed the cheese off his thigh plate. He couldn't do much about his glove, so he stood for the entire briefing, and kept his hands tucked behind his back at parade rest.

As he hurried from the briefing to dinner, a brief part of his mind wondered maybe if he should cut back on the cheese pretzels.

He shook his head, dismissively. No, he just needed to be more careful with the cheese sauce.

Maybe he could ask San for two of the wax papers to better insulate his gear from the corroding effects of the yellowish sauce.

Yes, he was a very clever command clone.


	3. Part Three: Satisfaction

_Captain Rex and the Last Cheese Pretzel_

* * *

Part Three: Satisfaction

(_by laloga_)

* * *

It was Torrent Company's final day in Coronet City and Rex was hungry.

Standing guard just outside the shadow cast by the covered walkway beside the convention center, he watched as Jesse and Tup, holding their position a few meters away, scanned the crowd that had congregated in the plaza across the street from their location. Kix and Coric were somewhere inside the center, as were – he thought, anyway – General Skywalker, Ahsoka, and most of the rest of Torrent. Fives and Cody...well, he wasn't sure where they were right now, but they could handle themselves.

A flare of annoyance passed through Rex at the memory of his brothers' conversation with him a few days ago, and he exhaled through his nose in irritation. _A problem. No kriffing way. _

As he'd told them all, he was _fine. _He was certainly not _addicted – _or whatever nonsense they'd cooked up – to a snack-food, no matter how deliciously warm and cheesy it may have been. The very idea was laughable.

As for the insinuation that he was somehow in less-than-optimal form because of said "addiction..."

_Ridiculous. _

Beneath his bucket, Rex frowned and swept his eyes across his surroundings again. He stood at the edge of the convention center, before a length of steep steps that descended into a sidewalk, then the darting lanes of the traffic of the roundabout that encircled a lush, well-tended garden. Beyond the garden, he could see that the plaza that was slowly filling with more and more people. A query to his HUD's database indicated that it was some kind of banking holiday in the city, so many of the civilians were apparently out and about this afternoon; if he zoomed his HUD across the lanes of speeder traffic, the garden and the crowded plaza, he could see the rows of vendors selling food to hungry customers.

Rex swallowed. It had been a very, very long time since breakfast and he'd been too busy for lunch. Perhaps if he took his bucket off, he'd be able to catch the scent of- _No_, he thought abruptly, turning his back to the plaza and glancing at his men. _I do not have a problem with...this. With anything. The others may have my best interest at heart, but they're _wrong_. _

Addicted to cheese pretzels, of all things. He was only glad that neither the General nor the Commander seemed to have picked up on his brothers' ridiculous notion.

Rex's stomach grumbled as if it, too, was annoyed, and he watched as Tup and Jesse's backs straightened under his gaze. Torrent had done their job well; the 238th Intergalactic Amity Conference was nearly done and they would all return to the _Resolute_ – to normalcy – tomorrow. Then he could put this whole affair behind him.

An hour passed. Then another.

As evening approached, the bright sky began to darken, though the crowd in the plaza seemed only to grow more numerous and Rex heard the beginnings of some type of live musical band begin to play nearby. Following this, he caught Tup standing on tiptoe as if trying to see the band, though the moment the captain's visor fell on the younger clone, Tup snapped to attention and looked back at the convention center.

_Good lad, _Rex thought as he gave a quick nod. He knew that much of the mission had been tedious for some of the younger guys, and that these final hours were likely to be the toughest to weather, especially for a near-shiny like Tup.

Certainly not for a seasoned veteran like himself.

Rex's stomach rumbled again. He sighed inwardly and tried to calculate how long he had until it was time for dinner rations, bland and tasteless as he knew they'd be...hours, yet, the way things were going. His left hand skimmed the pouch on his belt as he studied the walls of the conference center for the eighteenth time this hour. He knew he had a few credits left. It wasn't much money, _but_ it would be enough.

Despite himself, Rex sighed, then cast another look across the plaza even as his empty stomach gurgled almost plaintively. The zoom on his HUD allowed him to get a good look at the crowds, the band that was starting to warm up with some melody he'd never heard, and the rows of food-vendors...one in particular.

If he looked very closely, he could see the glowing sign, standing out like a beacon among the growing darkness in the sky and the artificial lights that flooded the plaza.

KOR VELLA TWISTS: _They're Delicious!_

It took all of his self-control to resist rubbing at his far-too empty stomach even as his mouth began to water at the memory: warm breading, so soft it nearly melted on his tongue; the smooth, creamy taste of the cheese creating a delicious counterpoint to the tang of the pretzel's salty seasoning; the combined tastes and textures filling his mouth with a veritable ordnance-round of wonderfulness.

Rex's gloved hands tightened into fists at his sides. _You're better than this. You're a _captain_, for Force's sake! It's just food. You're fine. You don't have a problem...just don't give in to temptation. _

_Don't prove them right._

An angry snarl from his stomach met his ears, but he held his position and did not move towards the source of the food. Instead, he frowned while he attempted to put his thoughts in order. Logically, he knew that his mouth was watering for the same reason his stomach was growling: he was hungry. It'd been a long time since he'd eaten last and although Rex was no medic, he well understood the Human body's physiological responses to hunger, which was all that this _craving_ was. Nothing more.

Satisfied at his rationalization, Rex nodded to himself. Since he was obviously able to resist the temptation of the cheese pretzels – well, what minuscule amount there was to be had – he'd proved his brothers' argument of him being "addicted" wrong.

Now he could turn his mind to their other claim.

_Less-than-optimal form, my _shebs_._ Rex gave a snort of disgust at the idea as he glanced back across the plaza, his eyes automatically falling on the familiar kiosk that most certainly held no allure for him, not even a little bit. While their "intervention" had not been anywhere near mutiny, or even insubordination, it was irksome to think that the others – Cody, of all people – thought he was letting himself go, or whatever nonsense they'd decided.

_I've a mind to show them that Captain Rex _is_ in optimal form_, he thought as he studied the crowd, the lanes of traffic, and the garden that lay between himself and the plaza. _More than optimal, actually. Perfect. One-hundred, kriffing percent. _

Another growl from his stomach cut into his thoughts, but he fought his hunger back to its proper place at the back of his attention, because he had more pressing matters on his mind. From a certain point of view, Rex was well within his rights to prove them wrong, simply because so much was riding on his reputation as Captain of Torrent Company, of the famed 501st Legion.

It was his duty to counter-act even a whisper that he wasn't operating at peak efficiency, even if it was just for his own peace of mind.

His duty. It was his _duty_ to show that he was completely and totally unaffected and not distracted or tempted in any way, by_ anything, _especially not by the continued – it hadn't really stopped, had it? – grumbling of his stomach and the near-physical pull of his attention to a glowing sign and the memory of warm cheese.

But how could he show such a thing? Again, he swept his eyes across the surrounding area, noting that Tup and Jesse had adjusted their positions so that they were to one side of a marble column at the edge of the convention center, somewhat out of his immediate line of sight. He considered calling them back to where he could see them, but then his stomach gave a particularly violent snarl and his body made the decision to move before his mind condoned the action.

It happened so quickly that he didn't have time to note the fact that no other brothers were nearby to witness his display of one-hundred percent, optimal-condition, captainly maneuvering.

Six steps, so smooth that they were essentially one fluid movement, brought him to the base of the stairs, and he wasn't even a little winded. Before him, the traffic from the roundabout zoomed by, the sound of rushing air not quite snuffed by the dampers in his bucket, so he took a moment to survey the area, setting the tactical portion of his brain to the next phase of his impromptu mission.

The sheer number of speeders, hover-buses and other assorted vehicles racing past him meant that it would be impractical – not to mention dangerous – to attempt to cross the road from his current position. There was no crosswalk that he could see, but therewas a pedestrian bridge that curved _over_ the roundabout, leading people from the gardens to the convention center. Though generally conveniently located, this particular bridge ended about ten meters to the right of his current location, and an assessment with his HUD revealed that the arched, scrolling durasteel frame rested about six point five meters above his head.

Across the plaza, the pretzel stand's sign flickered as if the stand was about to close for the evening; his breath caught, but he exhaled in the next moment when the glowing sign remained intact.

All this his brain absorbed within a matter of seconds. Once he'd done so, Rex's mind began racing through the calculations while his hands began to tug his fibercord launcher-cable free of his belt, because it was really an unwise move to dart across the traffic when he had such a perfectly sound and reasonable option available to him as crossing _above _the obstacle.

Besides, it'd be so much faster, this way.

Decision made, Rex bent his knees to absorb the kickback from firing the launcher, aimed the cable's end at a sturdy-looking section of the bridge's underside, and pushed the release. The hooked end soared above a hover-bus and caught; he gave a tug to ensure that the cable was secure. When he was certain that it would hold, he took one last look at the pretzel stand, still glowing brightly in the fading light, and jumped.

It was the kind of action that required split-second timing, as he had to retract the cable just enough to allow him to pass over the traffic without slamming his head into the bridge, _and_ give himself room to land on the other side. Luckily, Rex was in top-form – no matter what anyone else thought – and he executed the maneuver with his usual efficiency. Tucking his knees into his armored chest, Rex swooped over the rushing lines of speeders and hover-buses, a part of his brain evaluating the information that his HUD was feeding him about his current location while another part remained fixed on his goal.

As he landed – neatly and with textbook-perfect form – on the sidewalk on other side of the street, his stomach let out another fierce snarl, so he surveyed the next phase of his route.

One of the great things about having a tactical-leaning brain as the clones had been granted was that no minute was ever spent in idleness. Even when standing at his post, ensuring the safety of those who remained inside the convention center, Rex had spent the last few days studying the layout of the garden – what he could make out from the center, anyway – so he already had a pretty good idea of how he'd achieve this portion of his mission.

Perhaps someone had designed this garden to be a thing of beauty, but Rex's mind broke down the numerous bushes, hedges and flower-patches into a series of obstacles to be overcome, and within a heartbeat he sprang forward, heading for the low stone wall that served as a barrier between the street and the garden proper. One leap, barely a flexing of his calves – _how's _that_ for optimal condition, Kix_? – and he was over the wall; another leap carried him, (most of the way), over a somewhat taller, manicured layer of hedge resting just past the stone wall.

Okay, the hedge was more than _somewhat _taller than the wall, as he didn't _quite_ make it over with the same, fluid grace he'd managed with said wall, but that was okay. Rex landed – still textbook-perfect, mind you – and ignored the dozens of tiny leaves that he'd knocked off of the hedge and managed to catch in the spaces between his armor and his body-glove. They began to itch immediately, but there would be time to clean his kit later.

Ahead of him, the rest of the garden loomed, somehow seeming thick as any jungle despite its manicured state, but Rex was not deterred. If anything, the gnawing, roiling growls rumbling through his stomach propelled him forward with even more determination than before, and so he set about making his way through the miasma of shrubbery that lay ahead.

It was easier said than done.

There was definitely a plan to the garden, for in his previous surveillance, Rex had been able to note the delineation of paved walkways and layered flower bushes, all of which seemed designed to create a serene, winding sort of path through the area.

However, Rex was on a mission and there was no time for serenity, so he allowed simple logic to prevail and plunged straight through the nearest flower-bush, something large and purple with dozens of petals on each of its many, many flowers. For one moment, Rex was blinded by purple as his legs carried him through the bush, so that when he sprang out the other end, he didn't see the pond.

In retrospect, he should've remembered that there was a pond here, for he'd noticed the gleam of sunlight on water in days previous, but apparently he'd misplaced the memory. Rex leaped out of the flower-bush in what was surely an explosion of bright, purple petals and emerald leaves, and landed with a splash – and in a most uncaptainly manner – in the pond, displacing a trio of Corellian mallards who honked at him in protest as he scrambled to his feet.

It wasn't a deep pond, but he was thoroughly soaked; the leaves that had gotten caught in his armor and had not been washed away by the water were now fixed within his suit, poking at him through the fabric, itself now starting to pinch at other parts of his body.

But he was that much closer to his goal.

Rex shoved aside his discomfort and continued rushing forward. One...two...three strides and he sloshed clear of the pond and the mallards, scrambling to shore and making a direct heading towards the other side of the garden, now in plain sight. In the background, he could hear the band's song increase tempo, the music adding a layer of rhythm to his movements. Beyond the garden's edge, across the plaza, he could still make out the stand, and for one moment he allowed the memory of warm, melted cheese to inspire his steps to quicken further still.

Only one obstacle remained: the other end of the garden, at which there was a row of bushes cut into the shapes of various animals he vaguely recognized. After that, it would be a simple matter of making his way through the crowded plaza, and his mission would be a success, so Rex ducked his shoulders and darted across the winding path, ignoring what sounded like a gasp from an onlooker.

_Focus, _he told himself as he brushed past a group of slack-jawed civilians who'd been in this section of the garden. _Your mission comes above all other things. _

The topiary was a bantha, or so he figured by the curving, spiraled horns at its "head," but in truth Rex hardly paid it much mind, save a lightning-fast assessment of how best to traverse the obstacle. It was too tall to jump, so he dove forward and commando-rolled beneath the bantha's legs, popping out the other side and taking his feet with an ease that – he _knew_ – would put even an ARC to shame.

_Still got it. As if there was ever any doubt._

Now, the plaza.

Pausing for one moment, (and ignoring the way his chest was heaving perhaps a bit more than it should have), the captain surveyed the mass of beings in front of him with dismay. When had so many people accumulated here? Surely there hadn't been this many before?

No matter. Rex's jaw tightened with resolve and he ignored the gurgling keen from his stomach as he began to approach the steps that led to the plaza, his soaking kama leaving droplets of water in his wake and his boots making a squelching sound against the pavement.

At first he tried to be polite as he moved through the crowd, but after a few gaping looks from the civvies – surely they'd be used to the presence of the clones by now? – he gave up the pretense and instead focused on finding the best way to take each step: ducking under lifted arms, sliding around twisting torsos, and artfully dodging anyone else who got in his way. The song that the band was playing was loud, with a strong, thumping bass-line that further fueled the sense of urgency he'd felt, and he bit back his frustration as his passage through the crowd became harder and harder.

Finally, _finally, _he broke free of the crowd – almost shoving through a tightly-packed band of young women who exclaimed in surprise at his intrusion – and found himself standing a few meters before San-the-vendor and his cart of deliciousness. The elder Corellian man gave Rex a somewhat odd look as he handed a pretzel to a young boy whose mother seemed a bit alarmed at the Captain's sudden appearance, but Rex didn't paid them any mind. Instead, he straightened his spine and strode the final few steps as casually as he could manage, even as his still-wet boots made that annoying squeaking-noise.

He nodded to the boy and his mother, then glanced at San as he reached in his belt for the credit-chip. "One with everything, please."

As Rex was digging out the chip, San gave a low whistle and the area around Rex grew ominously dim. Looking up in alarm, Rex saw that the brightly glowing sign that had acted as a beacon was now gone, and the stand was bathed in darkness. "Sorry, young man," San-the-vendor said, giving Rex an apologetic look. "Just sold the last one. I was actually about to close up shop for the day."

_Just sold the last...?_

Rex blinked, and his stomach let out a plaintive burble of disbelief. "Sold out?"

San gestured to the glass case, which Rex could now see was totally devoid of pretzels, and his breath caught. As if it would be any different with his own eyes looking upon the case, Rex tugged off his helmet, ignoring the shower of purple petals that fluttered to the ground with the action, and he looked between San and the empty case. Maybe he'd heard wrong. The music was very loud, after all. "You're sure, sir?"

"Positive." San flashed Rex a look that the captain didn't know how to read, then cleared his throat. The band must have finished its tune, for the music stopped and Rex heard the next words with all-too-perfect clarity. "Er...I'll have more tomorrow."

But Rex wouldn't be here, tomorrow! Tomorrow, he'd be back on the _Resolute_, flying far, far away from Coronet City and its KOR VELLA TWISTS.

_No, no, no..._

Rex opened his mouth, but he didn't know what he was going to say, so only a strangled, choking sort of sound came out.

"Sorry, son," the vendor was saying as Rex fought the urge to collapse to his knees in frustration. "If only you'd gotten here a few minutes earlier..."

With that, San-the-vendor slid the kiosk's cover shut, and Rex was left staring at cold, empty metal that did nothing to appease his snarling stomach. All thoughts of his mission fled his mind, and his mouth hung open a little in sheer disbelief that he'd been defeated by circumstance.

_NO!_

There was a clatter as his bucket fell to the ground, and as if of their own accord, Rex's fists balled and lifted up to either side of his head, as if they were about to slam into his skull because. It. Was. _Wrong_.

It was unfair and it was _so_ much worse after all he'd come through just to prove himself; he still had leaves stuck in his suit, for Force's sake, and he was still _so _kriffing hungry.

Someone with a voice that sounded like his shouted as if in agony at the _wrongness_ of the whole situation. "_NOOOOO!_"

However, the moment was fleeting, for in the next breath he heard a familiar voice speaking his name. "You okay, Rexter?"

Snapping his mouth shut and whirling around, Rex watched as Ahsoka – of all people – seemed to materialize out of the crowd, one of her hands behind her back. She came over to him and furrowed her brow lines as she looked him over. "Um...why are you soaking wet and covered in leaves?"

_Oh, shab._

"Recon," he managed to choke out. "Er...full perimeter sweep of the area."

A smile quirked at her lips. "Did you happen to get attacked by purple flowers while you were on recon?"

Trying to regain at least a semblance of composure, Rex took a breath to fight back the swell of embarrassment that heated his entire face as he replied. "No...I'm fine, Commander."

"Of course you are," she replied with a solemn nod that was belied by a sparkle in her eyes. "Anyway, I tracked you down because you always work so hard, and I thought you deserved a treat. Here," she added, moving her hand from behind her back and thrusting a familiar, flimsi-wrapped package his way.

Within it was something wonderful, something creamy, cheese-filled, warm, doughy and delicious. She still appeared to be fighting back a smile, but he was past caring as he stared at the package, disbelief and pure, undiluted joy warring within him. "You're in luck," she added with a grin. "I think I got one of the last ones."

Later, he hoped he'd remembered to thank her, because once the first bite of pretzel filled his mouth, Rex was at a loss for words.

Victory never tasted so wonderful.

* * *

_For a soundtrack to this fic, remove the spaces and follow this link_: www. nooooooooooooooo.com

_This was ridiculously fun to write, (almost as fun as CVI was to attend!) and I hope it was fun to read as well! :)_


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